Page 8 of Empowereds

8

T he moment Charity’s gaze landed on Enzo, her heart stuttered. When her father had first told her he’d seen a vision of her husband, he’d said the man was a nice-looking fellow. Nice-looking. Charity had imagined someone a little above average. Someone with a wholesome, cheerful demeanor that made parents approve of him.

She’d never thought the guy would be stop-and-stare gorgeous. Enzo was the sort of man the government chose to put in news videos depicting the valiant soldiers who defended the country. Rugged and a little dangerous.

“Well,” her father said, “what do you think of him so far?”

Her mother leaned closer to Charity. “He’s very handsome.” She said the words with an equal mixture of approval and caution. “And for a guy with a desk job, he’s pretty muscular. What hobbies do you suppose gave him those biceps?”

“Stop staring,” Charity hissed. “He’ll see you and wonder why we’re all gawking at him.”

Her parents turned back to her, looking firmly at her and still awaiting her verdict.

“Well?” her mother asked. “What do you think?”

Charity’s thoughts were racing so fast it was hard to catch them. Enzo came from Kansas City. Most city folks thought they were better than manual laborers. How could she make a good impression on him? She couldn’t pretend to be sophisticated.

Her father read his own meaning into her hesitancy. “You don’t like him?”

“It’s not that …” Charity said.

Her mother smiled. “She’s just nervous. Any woman in her situation would be.” She patted Charity’s arm. “You don’t need to be. You already know he’s going to like you. Just let things progress naturally, and they’ll go where they’re supposed to.”

It was so awkward to have this conversation with her parents.

“If he’s the shy sort,” her father added, “you’ll need to go out of your way to talk to him because you don’t want to…” He didn’t have to finish. You don’t want to go against the prediction.

None of them knew why her father had been given a vision about who she should marry, but her brothers’ general assumption was that if her father didn’t find the right guy, she would likely marry a blabbermouth who’d get them all killed.

From the time her father had told her about the vision, Charity had refrained from getting into relationships. Involvement with the wrong guy would lead to heartache and potential danger. So, who knew, maybe her avoidance of men actually had kept the family safe. Whatever the reason for the visions, her future with Enzo merited two of them. But at the same time, her precautions had left her woefully inexperienced with men.

And now Enzo was here. Actually here.

She would need to try and be attractive and charming. She glanced down at herself. A few dirt smears colored her T-shirt. “I’m going to wash up.”

Charity left her parents and made a beeline to the women’s bunkhouse. She put on a clean shirt, took her hair out of the ponytail, and brushed it until it lay across her shoulders in a smooth wave. Her hair was naturally dark blonde like her brothers, but she’d put lemon juice on it and the sun lightened it to a respectable color with a sheen of highlights.

Most harvester women made their own makeup. Would putting on some now make it obvious she wanted to impress him? Then again, city men were used to women who primped.

Charity applied mascara and considered her features. More than one guy had told her she was pretty. At times, she even believed it. At other times, she was just as convinced that men only flirted with her because they wanted a fling for the season. They always gave up on her quickly enough.

Her blue eyes were a nice shade, the same color as her father’s—like the sky on a cloudless day. But a dozen freckles spread across her nose and cheeks. She’d never seen any tele-shows where beautiful women had those. She dabbed at them with some face powder.

Time to go back outside. She could make small talk with the new guy. That was a normal, polite thing to do. And for once, her family would give her the green light to talk to a man. So there was that.

Enzo was nowhere to be seen, but her brothers sat on the rise overlooking the pasture where the farmer kept his goats. She had put their chickens in with them. Something about her brothers’ too-pleased expressions made her head in their direction.

She immediately saw what they were looking at. Enzo was running around the pasture, chasing chickens. “What is he doing?”

Milo leaned back on his elbows. “I told him we needed to put the chickens in their cages and asked if he thought he could catch them. I’ve got to give him credit. He actually did catch one.”

Gregor nodded. “Obviously, something is wrong with that chicken. Should be the first one we eat.”

Charity smacked Milo on the shoulder. “You’re supposed to be nice to him.”

“I am being nice. This is how guys bond. We make each other look stupid.” He snorted. “Some guys make the task easier than others.”

Charity smacked him again, marched down the rise, and went through the pasture gate. The goats took note of her and ambled up, bleating, to see if she had any treats on her. That was the price she paid for sneaking them scraps.

Enzo saw her and stopped running after a hen. It scurried away, clucking in indignation. He put his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. “How can something with such little legs outrun a person?”

“That’s one of the mysteries of life.”

The chickens were too riled up and wary to come near her. They settled near the fence in an anxious, clucking huddle and glared at Enzo.

She went to the side of the chicken coop where a bag of feed sat on a shelf and scooped out a large cup. She also grabbed a wire hanging on a peg. “It makes you wonder how we’ve survived as a species. Even small things can outrun us, and we don’t have claws or sharp teeth.”

Enzo straightened, finally catching his breath. “It seems like you’ve given the survival of our species a lot of thought.”

“You’ve got to think about something when you’re weeding all day and your phone is so old the battery life is approximately two minutes.”

He walked closer. No, not walked. Sauntered. Even when he’d been running around the field, his stride still had a slight swagger. “They make solar-powered phones, you know.”

“So I’ve heard. I’ve just never seen one I could afford at a market.”

He glanced at the cup of feed in her hand. “You’re about to show me there is an easier way to do this, aren’t you? And I would’ve known it if I wasn’t a city boy.”

He didn’t sound too mad. That was a good thing. “Yeah. I’m sorry my brothers were jerks and didn’t tell you how to do this. Although, if it helps, they’re impressed you managed to catch one.”

Enzo regarded Milo and Gregor sitting on the rise. The two waved at him, grinning. “Are they jerks to all the new hires or just me?”

She tossed the chicken feed onto the ground near their feet. “Which answer would make you dislike them less?”

“I guess the first.”

“Then it’s definitely that one.”

He grinned. He had a beautiful smile with even white teeth.

“They’re not so bad.” She shot her brothers an aggravated look. “Most of the time.”

The chickens had either forgotten or forgiven Enzo for chasing them and came bustling over to peck at the feed.

She showed him the wire, an old coat hanger with the end bent into a small U. “This is like a shepherd’s crook for chickens. If they see you reaching for them, they’re going to bolt, which is why you have to grab them with the hook in one quick motion.” To demonstrate, she hooked a nearby chicken’s ankle and yanked the wire up until she could grab the bird by the legs. It squawked in protest and flapped its wings.

Enzo stared at the hen, his mouth slightly ajar.

“It doesn’t hurt them,” she assured him. “Just wounds their pride.”

“Ah, I have something in common with that chicken right now.”

She laughed and carried the bird to one of the cages. “I’m sure your pride will recover. Want to give it a try?”

She handed him the wire and the cup of food. He examined the hook. “All of the chickens just saw what happened to their friend, and they’re going to keep eating this feed anyway?”

“I never said they were the smartest species.”

“Right. Well, I think the mystery of how humans survived has been solved.” He hooked one of the chicken’s ankles but didn’t pull it upward fast enough. The bird slipped away and darted off, clucking resentfully. Enzo sighed. “You made this look easy.”

“It takes a little practice. You’ll get it next time.”

“Or I’ll create a flock of crippled chickens. Are you sure you want me to try again? Is the entertainment value really that good?”

She shrugged. “I already told you that my phone stinks. You’re all the entertainment I have right now.”

He chuckled. A good sign. “Well, I’m glad I have some value since I clearly don’t have many poultry skills.” He hooked a second chicken and pulled the wire to his hands in one smooth motion, this time managing to grab the bird’s legs. It flapped in alarm, squawking.

He shoved the chicken into the cage, shut the door, and took a small bow. Charity obligingly clapped. He went back to the flock, gripping the hook. “My name is Enzo, by the way.”

Right. She wasn’t supposed to know that already and felt awkward that she hadn’t asked him his name. “I’m Charity.”

He hooked a second bird. “I know. Milo told me your name while he warned me not to touch you.”

Milo had said that? Granted, with truth serum as a threat, the family avoided touching strangers, but Milo should’ve known better than to warn off Enzo. “He’s just cautious. Out here on the road, we have to be careful. You hear all sorts of stories about the government using truth serum on people. It’s made him a little paranoid.”

Enzo cocked his head. “He wasn’t worried about truth serum. He was afraid I might be some sort of reprobate where women were concerned.”

That was even worse. “Oh. Sorry about that. I’m sure you’re not.” She could feel herself coloring.

His head was still cocked. “Why would your mind go to truth serum first?”

She swallowed. “You just don’t look like a reprobate to me.” That sounded wrong. “Not that I’ve had a lot of experience in that area. I mean, I’m not the sort of person who…” This explanation wasn’t getting any better. “I don’t usually talk to a lot of guys. I guess that’s painfully obvious right now, isn’t it?”

He laughed, and his eyes rested on her. “I don’t blame Milo for being protective. It’s a brother’s job to look after his little sister.” Enzo spread a little more feed on the ground. “Is truth serum really something people have to worry about out here?”

All of her father’s warnings were right. It was too easy to mess up and say things she shouldn’t. She tried for casualness. “You know how it is. Although maybe coming from the city, you don’t. Out here, all the government does is hassle us and make us pay more taxes to fund whatever it’s doing.” Hunting Empowereds, for example.

Enzo hooked another chicken and pulled the bird to his chest. “Hopefully what the government is doing is fighting the raiders, slavers, and breakaway states. But yes, Kansas City also has hassles and taxes.”

She considered him. “I hear city life is pretty easy. They say you can find anything you want in the stores.”

“As long as you have very limited wants.”

She lifted an eyebrow. The city stores seemed so big, and they were heated in the winter and air conditioned in the summer.

“You can find a lot of things,” he amended, “if you look hard enough and are willing to pay the price. However, there’s one thing in particular we have a shortage of.”

“What’s that?”

He gave her a dazzling smile. “Beautiful country girls. Those are in short commodity, and I’ve just realized what a shame that is.”

He was flirting with her. She felt a moment of triumph. At least he wasn’t aloof like most people from the city. “Well, if you like country girls, you’ve come to the right place.”

His smile grew. “I hope so.”

Oh, there was no hoping about it. He’d come to the right place.

They caught the rest of the chickens quickly enough. Bless the chickens’ love of grain and small brains. Talking with Enzo was easy. He was so nice.

After they finished the task, Milo fetched Enzo to load kitchen supplies. Charity wished she could spend more time with him, but there was no rush. She’d see him again. If not today, then tomorrow.

Her life, she knew, was about to get so much better.